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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26305885">Jack vs. Anesthesia</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossiblepluto/pseuds/impossiblepluto'>impossiblepluto</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>MacGyver (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, The drugged jack weekend</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:00:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,446</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26305885</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossiblepluto/pseuds/impossiblepluto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>That's it. That's the fic. Written for "The Drugged Jack Weekend."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jack Dalton &amp; Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Jack vs. Anesthesia</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There’s enough awareness in Mac’s half-asleep brain for a flutter of annoyance focused again on the force of gravity to flit through before his head bobs, chin bouncing against his chest. He grunts in surprise and at the spike of pain the motion causes, slowly pulling his heavy head up into alignment again, and rolling his shoulders and neck to release the ache in his stiff muscles. Curled into a cramped chair that claims it’s a recliner but remains at more of an upright angle than a commercial airline seat. He freezes at the sound. Waiting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow, the noise that barely escaped his lips is enough to wake his partner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mac?” Jack’s voice is hoarse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m here, Jack. Just relax, okay?” It’s late and they’ve been through this before and despite nearly a decade of observations and data on the subject, he still hopes his voice is enough to convince his partner to ignore his grunt and go back to sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac’s words do nothing to assuage Jack’s concern once it’s been activated, and he’s struggling to sit up. “You okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac gives a soft huff, a twitch of a smile, and opens his eyes. “Yeah, big guy. I’m fine.” He unfurls his legs, ignoring the pins and needles as he sets them on the floor and straightens up, leaning closer so Jack can see him. Give Jack visual confirmation that he's fine.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack leans forward as well, grimacing. “You sure?” His eyes are just slightly too wide. Holding them open and maintaining his gaze takes concentration. “Sounds like you’re hurting.” His hand shakes and his face twists in pain as he reaches toward Mac. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac catches his hand, pushing him back gently as he raises the head of Jack’s bed.  “Hey, stop that. I’m fine. You’re going to hurt yourself.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bleary eyes scan Mac as Jack attempts to unsuccessfully free his hand from Mac’s grasp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just bruises. Nothing broken. Nothing of mine at least,” Mac covers a small wince, an emotional response rather than a physical. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Jack still sees it and his brow furrows, not quite believing Mac.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doc checked me out and everything,” Mac assures. The suspicious gaze of his partner doesn’t abate. “Got the x-rays to prove it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why are you in Medical?” Jack tries to gesture to the room, but Mac still holds his arm. Instead, he gives a pointed jab with his head towards their surroundings, obviously pleased with himself, and his deductive reasoning, catching Mac in his lie.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A small smile wars with the guilt on Mac’s face. “Who’s in the bed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack looks down and his mouth gapes. Disbelief colors his face. “Mac! Why’d you let them get me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you remember what happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack leans back against the pillow. For the moment, accepting Mac’s interpretation of the scene he finds himself in. He hums. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Explosion.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s enough of an inflection at the end of the word to tell Mac that Jack isn’t completely sure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you remember that or is it just a safe bet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack hums again. “Safe bet,” he admits with a frown. “You lit the fuse?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac gives a subtle nod, not wanting to give any leading information. He licks his lips. The guilt is harder to hide and even in this state, Jack picks up on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not your fault.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac doesn’t argue, but the words don’t feel true. He lit the fuse and he’s the reason Jack’s in the bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jumped. I think.” The furrow in Jack’s brow deepens. “Not… not such a good landing…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac winces. “Not our best.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-” Jack's mouth falls open again. “I broke your face.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I broke your collarbone.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack’s eyes flit down to the limb strapped to his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mac jumped up, not so much having lit a fuse but had given a vigorous shake to the explosive ingredients he’d just mixed together. He slapped Jack’s chest and yelled, “run!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They took off in a flurry. Feet pounding down the hall. Their options were limited, surrounded, lackeys on the floors above and below them and the stairwell crawling with armed guards searching for them. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mac punched Jack’s shoulder, catching his arm. They skidded around a corner and down a side corridor. “Window,” Mac instructed.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Aw, man, this is going to suck,” Jack said, his protective instincts put on a burst of speed, throwing his hands over his face and turning slightly to crash through the window a beat ahead of Mac, taking the brunt of the thankfully tempered glass. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The explosion caught them while they were still hanging in the air. Mac felt the heat singe the back of his neck. When he runs a hand through his hair, a few shaggy ends are crispy from sparks. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mac had a second to curse the force of gravity as they hurtled towards earth in a tangle of limbs. The front of Jack’s shoulder cracking against Mac’s cheekbone so hard he saw stars. Surprised tears filled his eyes as they landed and rolled. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mac laid there, stunned. Remembering how to breathe after the air was violently forced from his lung. The clear blue sky spun overhead and he watched for a moment before he realized that explosions he thought were behind his eyes were erupting in real time above his head. He blinked hard against the autonomic tears the prickled behind his lids. When he opened his eyes again, Jack’s face was over his. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jack patted his chest to get his attention and Mac squinted. Jack’s lips were moving but his voice was muffled by the ringing in Mac’s ears. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“We gotta move,” Jack said, half-hauling Mac to his feet with one arm. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They stumbled and struggled outside of the blast zone. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You okay?” Jack pushed back a swath of Mac’s hair, peering into his eyes. His fingers ghosting across the bruise forming under Mac’s eye and across the bridge of his nose. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fine,” Mac said. His face wrinkles. “Ears are ringing a little.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jack winced. “Yeah, mine too. Concussion?” He leans closer, catching Mac’s chin and looking into his eyes.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mac considered it for a moment, before shaking his head, pulling it free from Jack’s grasp. “Not dizzy. Vision’s okay.” His fingers wander to his cheek and he flinches as he probes the skin there. “Don’t think it’s broken. You okay?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah, didn’t hit my head and landed mostly on you,” Jack said with a half-hearted shrug. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Except, Mac realized after a second, watching the awkward, clumsy movement, it wasn’t just a lazy shrug. Jack’s arm hung at his side. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shoulder drooping. Limp in his sleeve. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dangled in a way a human arm wasn’t meant to sag. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jack followed Mac’s gaze. “Oh yeah. I noticed that." He poked at the offending limb. "T</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>hat probably ain’t good, is it hoss?”<br/>
</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He succeeds in pulling his hand from Mac’s grip and prods the limb in real time too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t mess with that,” Mac scolds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Surgery?” Jack looks up, brown eyes soft. Distressed and beseeching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Mac nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An impish grin crosses Jack’s face. “Imma fight it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The anesthesia,” Jack slurs and giggles. He glances around the room and leans forward with a gleam in his eye and a conspiratorial whisper. “Imma fight it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Jack-” Mac chuckles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t tell,” Jack wheedles. “They’re always so smug about it. Telling ya, you can’t fight it, making you count or saying that you didn’t even make it to the chorus of... of... which pre-ane- anes- knock-out drug song am I on now?"<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I didn't know that was a thing."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <span>This time, I’m not going to let them win. I’m going to fight it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"First of all, you can't. No matter how hard you try, the drugs are going to win."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack scowls. "How do you know?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you really want an answer or can I just tell you science?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're just as bad as them with their smug little faces behind their masks telling me I can't stay awake."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Second, why would you want to fight it? If you're about to lose a knife fight. Why would you want to be awake for that?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack huffs. "I'm only going to lose because I'm asleep."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And third," Mac snorts, trying to keep from laughing as he shakes his head. "</span>
  <span>I hate to tell you this, Jack, but you already lost.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the third time in just a few minutes, Jack’s mouth falls open. He reaches up for his wrapped arm, poking at it again. “They- they fight dirty, Mac.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac can’t keep from laughing at the look of betrayal on his partner’s face that dissolves into a yawn and series of slow languid blinks. “Yeah, big guy. Yeah, they do.” </span>
</p><p> </p>
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